


A Conquest For A Prince To Boast Of

by marybarrymore



Category: 15th Century CE RPF
Genre: After Agincourt, Gen, John of Gaunt & the Black Prince implied, The Battle at the Mouth of the Seine, The Treaty of Canterbury, When you sent your favourite brother to fight your war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29215596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marybarrymore/pseuds/marybarrymore
Summary: But he had no alternative. John was right, he must negotiate with Burgundy and France in person. And since he could not be at Calais and the mouth of the Seine at the same time, he had to choose someone to take the command and relieve the siege of Harfleur. Of course you wouldn't pick Thomas or Humphrey, John said with a smile, in an easy tone as if they were discussing not who he should send to meet the French fleet, but who he should send to meet the French embassy. Better me than them.
Relationships: Henry V of England & John of Lancaster 1st Duke of Bedford
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	A Conquest For A Prince To Boast Of

**Author's Note:**

> The Year is 1416

Henry was thinking over Burgundy’s proposal when the chapel door opened behind him, and did not turn around when he heard the noise, but lowered his head and watched as his shadow was reflected in the light on the floor, before disappearing with the sound of the door shut behind him. His thumb rested on the gold bead of the rosary, rubbing it over without turning it. The bell of Vespers had long since rung. The sky outside his window already dark, the colour of which reminded him of the silk robe he had seen on the Greek Emperor when he was but a boy. He had stayed in the chapel for hours in silent prayer, and as all knew that he preferred to be alone at such hour, no one dared to disturb him. So now, even at dusk, the chapel was scarcely lit. The only light in the room – apart from the dim light through the mosaic window on the wall behind the altar - was from the two white candles on each side of it. The light of them, disturbed by the movement of the door, flickered, troubling him, preventing him from concentrating on the problem of Burgundy.

He could not help but get annoyed as he heard the familiar footsteps slowly approaching him. He had given strict orders that no one should interrupt his prayers, whatever the reason, and Fitzhugh, as the chamberlain of his household, should have known this the best. Yet Fitzhugh had knowingly disobeyed, and the guards at the door made no attempt to stop him. His control over his own household must have slacked as he devoted himself to entertaining his unexpected guest Sigismund while collecting a navy to fight the French. Henry tried to stand up, to reprimand Fitzhugh for disturbing his prayer, but as he tried to do so he swayed so violently that he would have fallen to the ground had he not been able to steady himself on the stand. He had knelt too long, and at the slightest movement could feel his legs sour and numb. Inch by inch he moved, steadying himself holding the stand, trying to ease the sourness.

"My lord," he heard Fitzhugh speak from behind him, with a touch of urgency in his voice, "My lord forgive me, I know I should not interrupt your prayer ... "

Then, Henry thought, pulling the rosary around his wrist and raising his eyes to the Virgin who looked down at him with downcast eyes from above the altar, then you should have shut up and gone out at once instead of chattering nonsense here.

"... But you said you must be immediately informed whenever there’s news from my lord of Bedf-"

Henry rose with a start, his sleeves raising a scarlet whirl. But he had knelt too long and rose too fast that his eyes dulled and almost fell to the ground. Fortunately, Fitzhugh had approached him as he talked, and came to him in time to grab him by the arm to support him, and prevented the King of England from falling on his head in the grandest cathedral of England and becoming a laughing stock. Henry took a few deep breaths and raised his eyes to look at Fitzhugh, his trusty servant's face out of focus in the flickering candlelight.

"What news?" He asked, his voice a little hoarse, the dizziness slowly disappeared and his legs finally regained some strength to support himself. He stood up, still leaning on Fitzhugh’s arm, trying to put forth a semblance of majesty, but his voice shook involuntarily, "Anything wrong?"

"Nothing to fear for, my lord," Fitzhugh said, "the news we received from Southampton was nothing but good news. My lord of Bedford has, with the help of the tide, joined force with my lord of Hungerford’s fleet off Beachy Head, and sailed into the Narrow Sea with a helpful wind today. With the help of the Lord – and the wind - they will reach the mouth of the Seine before the day dawns."

Henry lifted his head, looking past the wooden Madonna at the window behind it. But the narrow pane was filled with mosaics depicting the gallantry of St George, and only through a tiny piece of glass was the sky visible. He knew that experienced shipmen could feel the direction of the wind, but he was no shipman, and naturally ignorant of their way. So he could do nothing except pray for Our Lady’s help, praying that the sea would remain calm and his fleet, unbattered by storms, should reach Harfleur safely and triumph over the French.

After all, on this thing alone rested all his hope. Should Bedford fail …

He shut his eyes as the feeling of unease came over him again. Fitzhugh seemed to sense it and, patting him on the back, clumsily tried to comfort him.

"My lord, rest assured," he said, "we shall win."

"Aye," Henry muttered, "we _must_ win."

If John should lose ... he closed his eyes, not daring to imagine the consequences. The French was proud and full of joy, convinced that Harfleur could not be rescued and the English had no alternative but to give up the town and surrender. They could sell the lion’s skin while the beast lives - had they not done so before Agincourt? But then God granted him grace and God fought for him, leaving the boasts of the French shattered; their laughter reduced to bitter tears; their nobles harvested by English archers. But now, even now, the memory of Agincourt still green, the blood of the French not yet dried on the field of Picardy, yet the Count of Armagnac - behaving as if he had forgotten everything, ignorant of the miracle God had wrought for England - dared to be arrogant enough to insult England and her king in public; to refute his demands in the conference; to treat his envoys with contempt, confining them to their apartments, forcing them to pay for their lodgings and food, as if they were not ambassadors of peace but prisoners captured on a battlefield! The mere thought of this incensed him. He thought that the terms he had offered were generous enough. He was even willing to give up his claim to the French throne and sign a three-year truce with them if the French leave Harfleur, and that many among the French themselves were favorable to his proposal. But Armagnac, proud and confident, rejected them all, and swore he would not rest until the English were expelled into the sea.

"But he did say something true," John said after hearing his complaint, and managed to laugh at his anger, "for, Harry, when you proposed the truce, did you not use it as a mean to win time, and would return to France without more ado once it expires? "

"Oh, shut up, John," Henry said, rolling his eyes.

John chuckled, having spoken out the king’s hidden thought. Henry, who had by then given him command of the fleet, was about to return to Westminster when he heard that the conference in Beauvais was not going well, and, looking out at the fleet anchored in the harbour not far away, and at the royal servants in the courtyard packing for his journey, his mood became bleaker and for a moment wanted to have Armagnac assassinated and put an end to all these – If only the Duke of Burgundy could be up to his old tricks! The French are the best at killing each other, without bothering him to get his hands dirty.

"Are they not the same, these French," he grunted, "refusing to talk at first, then having heard that I will come personally to relieve Harfleur, proposed to negotiate at once. Why would they do it, if not to tie my hands with these useless conferences? If I had known how quickly the talk would break down, I would not have given the command to you," he said, looking at the masts of the _Holy Ghost_ with anxiety, " ships we have many, but none of them can match the Genoese carracks. Since they have made it clear that they would not have peace, it will be a bloody battle if we are to break the siege of Hafleur. I wish I could lead the army myself."

"But the talks are still going on, and I don't think they will end so soon," John said gently, "did not Burgundy ask you to come to Calais, and to talk it over personally? You know how they would discredit you if you fought the French yourself while the talks still on. They would say that you were false in your demand for peace, and lay the blame for the failure of the talks on you. Besides," he sighed, in a helpless tone, "can't you trust me?"

"I don't distrust you," Henry said as he withdrew his gaze from the great ship, seeing the expectation in John's eyes and for a moment not knowing how to explain it to John. John had never been in a battle, he could not understand it, and everyone said that battles at sea were even more brutal than those on land, "I know you don't like to fight."

He thought he knew his brothers well. Thomas and Humphrey were somewhat similar in temperament: both were impulsive in battle, valiant, daring, but not yet able to command an army on their own, and he always had to keep an eye on them. But John was different, he knew he could trust John - he had never seen him act recklessly or allow the temptation of vainglory clouds his sound judgment - and he knew he could safely leave England in John's hands, who would always find a way to raise money and recruit soldiers when he was out there fighting the French. But he knew that John was not keen on war, and would no doubt prefer the palaces of London over the camps in France.

"That’s different," John protested, "I would not choose war myself, but I would gladly fight for you."

Henry looked at the statue of the Virgin above the altar, and the wooden statue looked down on him, the candlelight casting odd shadows on her face, her look a strange mixture of sad and pity.

"I should have gone myself," he murmured, "if these damned conferences hadn't prevented me from leaving. First the Emperor, then France and Burgundy. It's as if everyone is holding me back."

He had already arranged everything. The conference had come to naught, the Emperor had arrived at Leeds and would leave England at the first favourable wind. He himself had arrived in Southampton and was about to set sail, when the French offered peace, and Burgundy secretly sent an envoy to him. He learnt these at Southampton and was furious, unwilling to give up the opportunity to draw Burgundy in, but equally unable to ignore Dorset's urgent request for help, and postpone the departure of his fleet once more. Sigismund's visit had caused him to postpone it for two months, and in those months none of the news which went through the blockade of Harfleur and came to his ear had been good. The French army was on the other side of the Seine; the French fleet was blocking the mouth of the Seine; the town was running out of food and the soldiers unpaid for months. In his last letter Dorset had claimed in all earnestness that the men had begun to kill their horses to feed themselves and that if reinforcements did not arrive before the summer ends, he would have to abandon the town and surrender. But he could not give up Harfleur, which he had worked so hard and cost so much lives to gain, especially at such a critical moment: the emperor’s attitude still ambiguous; the parliament was hesitant, and had not granted him the tax he needed for his planned second expedition. If Harfleur were to fall, it would not only lose him a hard-won bridgehead, but would also threaten to make the Parliament lose heart and withdraw their support. Yet he could neither reject the French demand for a talk and give them the opportunity to accuse him of breaking the peace, nor give up the chance of persuading that double-minded Duke of Burgundy to settle his mind on him.

"You don't have to do everything yourself, Harry," John had told him, "let me go instead, I can win."

"You should trust the Duke of Bedford," Fitzhugh advised him, "surely with God’s aid he can conquer those proud Frenchmen."

"I trust John," Henry replied, "but this is his first battle ...... look what happened to Humphrey the first time he went to war, he nearly died at Agincourt. I shouldn't have sent John out like that, I'm his eldest brother and it's only right that I should protect him when he goes to war for the first time."

But he had no alternative. John was right, he must negotiate with Burgundy and France in person. And since he could not be at Calais and the mouth of the Seine at the same time, he had to choose someone to take the command and relieve the siege of Harfleur. Of course you wouldn't pick Thomas or Humphrey, John said with a smile, in an easy tone as if they were discussing not who he should send to meet the French fleet, but who he should send to meet the French embassy. Better me than them. It was fortunate that Thomas was left in London and did not arrive in Southampton with him - he had intended to take John and Humphrey to sea with him, leaving Thomas behind as regent. Westminster had not yet been informed of the latest developments, and Thomas would surely be startled on his sudden return to London - otherwise, should Thomas hear John say so he must make another scene. Unfortunately, Thomas was not there but Humphrey was, and immediately raised his eyes like a fighting cock, asking John angrily what he meant by that. You know what I mean, John said with a sly smile, remember how you got wounded at Agincourt? I don't believe Harry would be comfortable sending you to command the fleet when you are as reckless as that. Humphrey boiled with indignation at these words, and the two noble princes became locked in a deadly embrace in front of the King, while the Earls of March and Warwick watched from the relative safety and bet on them as if they were watching a cockfight in Eltham. Thankfully Emperor Sigismund was not here to witness such broil, or he would have withdrawn all his praise on the unity of the English nobles.

So he sent John to take command of the fleet for him and returned to Westminster, where he sent his ambassadors to deal with the French and to try to win Dorset, trapped in Harfleur, some more time; he sent Warwick to Burgundy to try to get a promise in black and white from the cunning duke, and he himself did everything he could to satisfy the Emperor's vanity and to make sure that he abandoned the French cause completely and became his ally. This he did, or rather, was about to do.

"Are all things ready for the signing of the treaty tomorrow?" He asked Fitzhugh, "The last thing I want is a last-minute mix-up."

He could not help but laugh at the thought of it. When Sigismund set out from Constance, all the world knew that the purpose of his journey was to promote peace between England and France so that the Grand Council would not be hindered by their quarrels, but the emperor went away empty-handed from the French court, and within a month of arriving in London he acted as if he was king Henry’s blood-brother, both of them denouncing the French as duplicitous and treacherous. The Emperor's attitude was undoubtedly influenced by the hospitality he received in England, but he would not have embraced the English cause so unthinkingly if France had not neglected him in the face of the civil war. Henry even heard that the Duke of Burgundy had besieged Paris during the emperor’s stay, and he was forced to flee the capital with the royal court. He had much to thank the French for providing him with such an ally.

"All is arranged," replied Fitzhugh. They were walking down the ambulatory of Canterbury Cathedral, their footsteps echoing on the stone, and from a distance came the muffled chanting of the monks, "nothing shall be amiss. "

Henry nodded and was about to give a few more instructions when he heard the chanting of the monks suddenly cease and a distant, panicked clamour came from the direction of the nave. People shouting, running, and soon silent again. The monotonous chanting resumed, and at the other end of the ambulatory there was the sound of urgent footsteps, running towards them from afar, with the sound of a metal sceptre clashing against the stone floor. The Archbishop of Canterbury was in a hurry, his mitre sat lopsided on his head. The king stepped forward and struggled to piece together the archbishop's topsy-turvy words. The beacons along the coast were lit again and the monks, falsely imagined that the French fleet was about to arrive, went in a panic, but no messenger had yet arrived at Canterbury and the archbishop had no idea why the beacons were suddenly lit.

"Those French bastards only left days ago!" Fitzhugh cursed, "wreaking havoc on the Isle of Wight and trying to attack Southampton. But the Duke of Bedford's fleet has just set sail today, how could they come so quickly? My lord?"

Henry did not answer. He lifted his eyes to the clear night sky, as if he had not heard what Fitzhugh had said at all. The archbishop took the king's hand, and felt it cold and shivering.

"It is John, Father, it is John," he whispered, his eyes cast in the direction of Southampton, as if through the Kentish field he saw a line of fire lit on the white chalk cliffs, "he has met the French fleet."

When they were young, they, like all noble boys in England, loved to hear stories of their great-grandfather Edward defeating the French. Grandfather was still alive then, and they used to pester his aged servants when they went to Kenilworth for the summer, and would not rest until they wrestled a new story out of them. Sometimes, in his leisure, grandfather would gather them together and told them stories of how, in his youth, he had fought against the French and the Spaniard. He had grown up in the household of his eldest brother, the renowned Prince Edward, and had followed the famous Prince of Wales against the rebels of Aquitaine, and had crossed the Alps with him to fight against the Castilian bastard. The children sat on the floor at their grandfather's feet, listening intently with unblinking eyes, while the duke of Lancaster sat in a high-backed chair in front of a window, his eyes looking out over the garden, and with a smile talked about the prowess of King Edward and Prince Edward, sometimes stopping in the middle of a story as if he had forgotten his audiences, sometimes falling into a long silence, or humming a tune unfamiliar to their ears. They had also heard their grandfather talk of a naval battle, the details of which Henry had long forgotten, but he still had a vague memory of the Duke of Lancaster sitting by the window, the sun shining on his long, grizzling hair, and he and his brothers looking up at their grandfather, listening to his recollections of the first battle he had fought in. John of Gaunt was neither the most powerful man in England nor the Duke of Lancaster, but a boy of ten, sailing out with his eldest brother, the Prince of Wales, to fight the Spaniards. The Castilian ships were so huge, towering above them, and made Prince Edward's cog seemed a fishing boat in comparison. The carracks casting huge shadows over the English cogs, threatening to swallow them up, and made cracks and holes in the hulls of the English ships. The Englishmen hooked their opponents’ ships, and with ladders scaled onto their towering decks. The wounded soldiers and surrendered shipmen were flung overboard and swallowed up by the sea, causing the sea to turn scarlet. Their corpses carried backwards and forwards on the ebb and flow of the tide, washed up on the shore of Winchelsea. Prince Edward pulled his brother onto a nearby carrack, saving him from the cracked and sinking cog. Indeed, the aged Duke of Lancaster told his grandchildren, that war at sea was a hundred times more perilous than on land. For on land you could surrender if you lost on the battlefield, but on the sea you can but sink or win, and that but for the timely aid of Duke Henry and my brother Edward I could not even sit here and tell you this story.

"The Emperor is right, Harry, a naval battle is too dangerous. If anything happens to you, England is doomed," John persuaded him, "let me go, I will win for you."

I know you can, he replied John at the time, but you said it was dangerous to fight at sea, and if anything happened to me, England would be ruined. But would I not be ruined if something happened to you? I fear for you. John laughed. I never know that king Harry would fear. I am the king, and I am your brother. So why shouldn’t I fear, when you propose to risk your life in my stead? John’s smile faded a little. He held Harry’s head and kissed the old scar on his cheek, and Harry saw his own shadow reflected in his brother's grey eyes. Perhaps it was his illusion, but he thought he saw suppressed anger deep down in those familiar eyes. But I also fear for you when you go out to fight and leave me behind, he said. Remember the old days – when you nearly died at Shrewsbury, and the messenger sent to London told me you were but slightly wounded. Do you know how frightened I was when I learned the truth? But you never knew nor do you ever care. Do you know how worried I was when you left Harfleur? You wrote to me, telling me that you were to go to Calais and asked me to postpone the Parliament, but nothing further. You disappeared in France without a trace, as if vanished into the air, and all the news I could gather was contradictory and ill. Some said you were captured, others said you were dead. Do you know how frightened I was then? He raised his eyes to Harry's, with a bitter smile on his face. I should have given you a taste of that fear, so that you would think twice before venturing in the future. Henry took his brother's face and kissed him on the lips, watching the anger in those grey eyes dissipate. Never again, for I shall take you with me when I venture further, he said, seeing the surprise in John's eyes and smiled, trying to sound relaxed and assured. You see, John, God has helped me walk through the valley of the shadow of death and helped me return victorious from Agincourt, so shall God bless you and make you return home loaded with honour and glory, thus proving that all our worries were unfounded.

"It’s late at night," Henry said, trying to re-collect himself, "They shall fight in the morning."

The very day when he would sign the treaty of mutual friendship with Sigismund, the feast of the Assumption, _absorta est mors in victoria_ \- but how could death be swallowed up by any worldly victory when only the victory which could conquer it was that of the Lord? Suddenly he was afraid.

"Harry, it will be all right," said the Archbishop, still holding his hand, "Our Lady will intercede for her dowry of England. She will take pity on her people of England and plead before the Lord, so that He may give grace to England."

Henry did not speak; a vague vision came to his mind. A young mother holding her baby in her arms, a look of sadness and pity on her blurred face, looking down on him.

"Indeed," he whispered, "Mary, our Mother in heaven, shall take pity on Her sons on earth, and shall intercede for us before the Lord."

You always say that victory lies not in the multitude of people but in the hands of God, John said, I am too humble for the Lord to hearken onto my prayers. But since you are the anointed and crowned King of England, the Lord should hearken you. When I go to war, you must remember to pray to the Lord for my sake. Henry laughed at his words and feigned pushing him towards the door. I know, I know, and when the time comes, I shall have all England pray for you, and the captain of the host of the Lord helps you, the masts of the carracks will fall down flat like the walls of Jericho.

"Fitzhugh," he ordered, "send at once to Westminster, to London, to Sheen, for all the monks, nuns and hermits to pray for the Duke."

The Archbishop of Canterbury bowed and retired, to withdraw himself also into prayers. Henry stood there for a moment, looking up at the clear, cloudless night sky, then, taking the rosary off his wrist and holding it in his hand, he headed back to the direction of the chapel.

* * *

He heard again from the fleet after a whole week. He was in the dry dock at Smallhythe, listening to the craftsman report on the progress of the new ship, _Jesus_ , when his mind wandered in the middle of the man's talk and remembered the last time he had dragged John and Humphrey along to see the _Holy Ghost_. Humphrey saw him having the motto “une sanz pluis” painted all over the side, and asked with an evil grin what that meant. "'one and no more', what do you mean by it? So you _will_ give up your claim on the French crown after all?" Humphrey asked, before halting abruptly with tears in his eyes: the king stomped him hard under the cover of his robe. But his thoughts were interrupted as Fitzhugh came to tell him that a messenger had arrived with news of the naval battle at the mouth of the Seine. He beckoned the messenger to come forward, whereupon the king saw a large, round-faced boy approaching him, the smell of sea and blood came crowding in.

His hasty return to Canterbury took Sigismund by surprise. For he had told the emperor yesterday that he was going to the coast to inspect the progress of the new ships and would not be back for several days. Then the emperor noticed that the king's face was red, beaded with sweat and his breath was unsteady. What is it? The emperor asked, this time in a tone of panic, what happened? Henry did not answer, not that he was being rude, but his mouth was dry and he could not find the strength to answer the emperor's question. Fortunately, Fitzhugh was there to relieve him and called for honeyed water to wet his mouth. He told the emperor that our king had heard the good news and was anxious for you to share his joy, and that he had ridden straight back to Canterbury without once dismounting from his horse, so give him some rest. The emperor's worry faded. What makes my brother Henry so overjoyed must be excellent news. Naturally, thought Henry, the honey wet his dry throat, but did not rid him of the foul smell of sea and blood that lingered in his nostrils. Then he spoke, his voice hoarse, and smiled as he told the Emperor that, through God’s grace, the English fleet had won a great victory at the mouth of the Seine, that the French fleet had been almost annihilated, and that the siege of Harfleur had been lifted. The emperor seemed pleased beyond words. Indeed, he said, it is a victory for a prince to boast of. Exactly, replied the king, therefore I rushed back to Canterbury upon hearing the news, to offer praise to the Lord as soon as possible.

When he had finished singing God’s praise, he would have to ask for more details about the damages and the casualties. He only heard the youth tell him of England's victory and the relief of Harfleur before interrupting him and asking about the Duke of Bedford. My lord rest assured, said the boy, the Duke of Bedford bore himself most bravely in the battle. He was then interrupted once more by the king, this time more rudely. I did not ask you how the Duke of Bedford fought, sirrah, the king said impatiently, I asked you whether he was well or wounded. The boy's eyes flashed, and Henry caught the momentary hesitation, and a sudden panic came over him. The Duke was wounded, the boy stammered, avoiding the king's gaze, but I heard it was just a scratch, the Duke said it was nothing, and the healer did not say otherwise. Heard, heard, Henry was so annoyed that he almost shouted at him, and even the joy of victory was tempered. The boy replied to the king's questions, telling him that the wounded had returned, but then said that the Duke of Bedford was not among them. The Duke had to bring provisions into Harfleur and it would be some time before he could return to England. Without further questioning, the king got on his horse and headed for Canterbury without a word, concentrating on his horse to try to dispel the ghastly imaginary in his head.

Sigismund took his arm affectionately and lavished praise on the peers of England, which Henry smiled thinly at, without paying heed to what he said. He felt someone pulled his sleeve and turned his head to see Fitzhugh shoving something into his hand.

"You've frightened the boy out of his wits," his chamberlain said with a faint laugh, "he's forgotten the most important thing."

Henry unfolded the parchment in his hand and glanced at it, recognising John's familiar scrawl. The heavy burden weighing on his heart suddenly lifted, and he smiled at Fitzhugh.

"John is as wordy as ever," he said, handing it back to Fitzhugh, "keep it, and have it copied and proclaimed throughout England, so that all may know God has again wrought a miracle for England’s sake. Also, tell them to keep an eye on the sea. I shall be informed as soon as they return."

He stood with Sigismund in the nave of Canterbury, listening to the choir praising God and lauding the Virgin for England’s victory, and counting the days inwardly, thinking that John might return before he left for Calais to negotiate with the French. He thought he would go in person to greet him ashore; to see him carried up the shore by the cheering crowd; to embrace him and kiss him and tell him he had done well and that he was proud of him; to welcome him home as Roman Emperors would welcome their victorious generals in times of old, just as John had welcomed him into the city of London after Agincourt. The emperor inclined his head in his direction and whispered to him in a lowered voice over the singing of the choir. He looked slightly sideways in the emperor's direction and saw the latter's face filled with envy undisguised.

"Your nobles always say how lucky they are to have a king like you," Sigismund sighed softly, "but happy also are you, for you have such subjects."

Henry looked at him and remembered Sigismund's mad brother and his scheming nobles. He thought of Warwick and March, Salisbury and Hungerford, Northumberland and Norfolk. They never loved his father, but they were willing to love him, to serve him, to be his retainers and his friends, for reasons he not yet understood. Then he thought of his brothers, of John and Humphrey and even the sometimes-troublesome Thomas. A smile surfaced from his eyes, and his stiff upper lip slowly relaxed and curved into a genuine smile.

"Indeed," he replied, "and for that reason alone I have enough to thank God for."

**Author's Note:**

> The Battle of the mouth of the Seine took place on the 15th August, 1416. The English fleet led by the Duke of Bedford defeated the Franco-Genoese fleet, broke the French blockade of Harfleur and helped Henry V achieve mastery of the sea, a necessary prelude to the conquest of Normandy in 1417.
> 
> On the same day of the Battle Henry V and Sigismund King of the Romans signed the treaty of Canterbury which cemented the Anglo-imperial alliance against the French.
> 
> Sigismund did not became Holy Roman Emperor until 1433, and in the treaty of Canterbury he was styled "Rex romanorum", however the Gesta called him "imperator" throughout. Here I call him emperor in order not to make the whole thing more confusing.
> 
> Henry V has intended to relieve Harfleur himself and ordered his captains to meet him at Southampton on 25th July. He took with him his two younger brothers, and left Thomas of Clarence in England as Regent. By July 18 he was at Southampton when he suddenly changed his mind and on 22nd July appointed Bedford as supreme commander of the sea and returned to Westminster. The conference of Beauvais (17-29 July) virtually reached nothing except arranging a further assembly before 16th August at Calais. On 23 July messengers were sent out to order those who had previously been committed to accompanying the king on the naval expedition should make their way to Dover by 19 August to accompany him to Calais. Tito Livio stated that Henry was dissuade by Sigismund from partaking this fight because it was too dangerous.
> 
> Bedford's reluctance to fight: After he became regent of France the Duke of Bedford was often critized for his reluctance to take the field. And it was said that Bedford spent more time in the company of his wife in Paris than in the field
> 
> The French wreaking havoc on the Isle of Wight and trying to attack Southampton: In June a French fleet ravaged Portland and landed on the Isle of Wight, threatening Southampton before returning to Dieppe loaded with bounty. In mid July they were back again in Southampton water threatening to set fire to the king's ships and stopping all outlet past the Isle of Wight, and Bedford's fleet did not sail out of Southampton until they had left
> 
> After Henry received the news that Bedford had set sail on 14th August, he "prayed to God ... and sent word on the following morning to the man of God, the hermit at Westminster, and to the saintly monks of the London Charterhouse and his own house at Sheen, that ... they should pray with all possible tenderness and devotion ... because of their merits, they believed would be heard by God more favourably" (Gesta)
> 
> The Naval Battle of Wincheslea: John of Gaunt was only a boy of ten at the time of the battle. I'm not certain whether he was with his father or his brother Edward but since he had joined Prince Edward's household at the age of 7, I naturally assume he was on board his brother's ship.
> 
> Our Lady will intercede for her dowry of England: "Who, as is devoutly believed, had compassion on the people of her dower of England ..."(Gesta) The idea of England as the dowry of Mary was promoted in the times of Richard II and Henry V
> 
> On 21st August Henry received the tiding of the Battle while returning to Canterbury from Smallhythe, "having, therefore, given thanks to God, he did not dismount from his horse until he had brought this new to the emperor at Canterbury" (Gesta), and added numerous memorials to the daily service of his chapel in commemoration of the victory.
> 
> "but happy also are you, for you have such subjects.": "For that victory he (Bedford) was not so much thanked of the king his brother, as lauded and praised by the emperor sigismund being to him a stranger, who said openly 'happy are those subjects which have such a king, but more happy is the kingg that has such subjects.'" (Hall)


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